Magical Children Will Thrive
by Percy Ignatius Weatherby
Summary: Vernon Dursley comes home one night to face the reality of what had become of his family: an unhappy wife and two unhappy boys. Please read the author's note at the beginning of the chapter.


Disclaimer: I do not own any recognisable works.

Author note: Please note that there is a reference to abusive behaviour towards a child in the chapter.

This piece of writing has been sitting on my computer for a long time and I've finally decided to upload it. If you would be interested in seeing me continue this story (even if it's just as drabbles) please let me know. I hope you enjoy.

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 **A Moment of Clarity**

Vernon made it through the front door at eight, sharp. Petunia hated it whenever he was late home so he tried always to get back at the same time every day. It didn't _exactly_ take him two and a half hours to get to and from work, but what Petunia didn't know wouldn't hurt her. At first she was a little mystified at how he could come back smelling of the pub, tipsy and had even broached the question " _Vernon, were you drinking on the job_ ", at eight sharp but he had chuckled and kissed her good evening and asked for Dudley and that was the end of that.

Loosening his tie as he went, Vernon traipsed through the hallway and dining room and leant on the kitchen doorway. The frame creaked slightly, _'I really should lose a few pounds',_ and Petunia looked up from her meticulous cleaning of the counters. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of him and her lips pursed. The word 'sloppy' seemed to bounce off the walls of the silent room and Vernon shifted uncomfortably.

"Get off the doorframe Vernon, you'll mark it."

Vernon offered her a cheeky smile as he straightened, he took two steady steps into the kitchen until they were face to face. His hand went to stroke her smooth pale cheek, his wedding band glinting in the soft light of the kitchen, his cologne permeated the air around her.

"Hey Pet, I'm home." A ghost of a smile hovered at her lips, her eyes took on a softer gaze. Perhaps it wouldn't be one of those nights, perhaps they would get along, and perhaps Petunia had not felt particularly suffocated today. Ever since she had lost her job five years ago, their marriage had strapped itself in on a rollercoaster and everything had become that much more difficult.

It hadn't been her Petunia's fault that her boss had not been sympathetic to life as a new mother. That after coming back from maternity leave she was looking after two children who got into scrapes and sometimes grew ill, that _she_ got sick, and that ultimately the world did not function perfectly. There was nothing she could have done to make the sequence of events fall any different. And maybe that's what made it all the more difficult for her to accept. Vernon hadn't minded that he had to take on the brunt of earning for the family, in fact, Petunia had watched him, eyes burning with resentment as he got ready for work, whistling a cheerful tune and falling into the role of _Breadwinner_.

Petunia had fallen off the face of the job market and had not picked herself up again. Her growing dependency on Vernon outshone her ability to be independent and so she stayed at home looking after the children. Doing nothing for herself, but all for the family. And things like spotless doorframes became the height of her day to day achievements.

Vernon knew that the novelty of being a family had ceased for her. He could tell that at times, more often than not, she wanted to be like the unit they had become when they were first married. But Vernon, for him, their life now was his dream manifest. And so – selfishly, that much he could admit - Vernon never broached the subject of her venturing out. And Petunia ignored the fact that she knew that he knew what she truly wanted.

Vernon disentangled the washcloth from her fingers and drew her hand up to his mouth. Her pale eyes watched his every move and he kissed the back of her hand lovingly. She had sacrificed so much for him and he loved her all the more for it. Tugging her along by the same hand Vernon led her back through the house and up the stairs, remembering to tread softly so as not to wake the children.

They reached Dudley's bedroom first, his room was opposite the stairs, and Vernon having not seen him all day poked his head around the door to get a peek at his son. The first thing that Vernon noticed was that it was a little chilly in there, like the window had been left open all day. The second was that Dudley's nightlight was not on and Dudley could never sleep in the dark. Vernon's gaze then landed on the untouched bed. Forgoing his original plan of not disturbing his little tyke, Vernon strode into the room and pivoted trying to spot his son. Petunia remained in the hallway wringing her hands nervously, her face had once more become harsh and calculating. As Vernon dropped to his knees to see if Dudley had wedged himself under the bed in fright or something he asked Petunia, "Didn't you tuck him in tonight?"

Silence met his query and he jerked up to face her form. Why wasn't she more concerned? The light behind her made her nothing more than a silhouette and her long, thin shadow peeled along the floor eerily with the yellow light of the hallway. But she looked boxed in by the doorframe, small. Scared.

"He was really upset after school today. Because of that boy, _Harry_." She spat his name out as if it were an insult and Vernon's hackles rose. How could she be so venomous towards a child? What could a child do? "And while I was punishing the boy… I just assumed that Dudley went to the play room or fell asleep. He didn't come down for dinner and I just thought it best to leave him."

Petunia didn't speak of the way he had rejected her and how that had hurt _so much_. She didn't confess that in a way this was her way of punishing their little boy. _'If he wants to act like a spoilt brat, he can do so by himself'._ Her words echoed in her head and she smoothed out invisible creases in her skirt nervously.

"Thought it best to leave him? Petunia, he might have run away because he was upset! You know what children that age are like! I know what I was like!" Vernon's heart started beating faster in his chest as reality truly started to hit him. "Where could he be if not in his room?" Vernon swept past her, quite gracefully for such a large man, and into the playroom, flicking on the light switch. And again, an empty room met his gaze, toys dashed on the floor looked up at him and their dead eyes mocked his worry. _Where is my son?_

"Harry might know something, mightn't he?" Words were spewing out of Vernon's mouth but he may as well have been talking to himself – Petunia was not putting in a penny's worth. Again, Vernon stopped still eerily, peering at his wife who hovered on the peripherals of the panic. Why wasn't she panicking, why wasn't she more worried for her _precious Didykins_? Vernon cut his eyes and lumbered down the stairs, taking as many as he could at a time. He reached the cupboard panting, his heart going a mile a minute. _Please know something, please know something, please know something._ The silent mantra gave him no reprieve and his beating heart shook his entire frame.

It didn't take long for him to fumble open the lock. Not long to prise open the door that always stuck a little. Not long at all for the hallway light to flood in on his nephew's sleeping space obtrusively, exposing two little boys curled up under thin sheets on a lumpy mattress. _He was safe._

But why had Petunia locked him in the cupboard? For the third time that night Vernon rose his head in search of his wife and her possible answers. He gazed up at her through the eggshell banisters, their shadows streaking across his face. Why had Petunia locked him in the cupboard?

Waves of warmth flared from the small space around Vernon's body but goose-bumps spread up and down his arms and he shivered in spite of it.

"Dad?" A small voice came from the cocoon they had made for themselves and Vernon figured that the cold he had let in must have woken the usually heavy sleeper.

"Yeah, it's me Dud, com'ere." With that he pulled his little boy into his arms, inspecting his condition. Dust and cobwebs lined everything they could stick to. Clothes and hair, the boy looked like an unkempt urchin. How long had he been in there? Why had Petunia locked him in the cupboard?

"Dad, Harry and I were really hungry so we fell asleep, but I'd like it if I could eat now." Vernon gripped Dudley closer to his chest before setting him on the ground next to him. He chuckled, almost boisterously and replied,

"I'm hungry too, lad. What's say you head into the kitchen and I'll get you something in a bit." At this Vernon shot a scathing look at Petunia – she hadn't offered him anything to eat when he had got in either. How could she forget to feed her family? Hadn't she made food for herself? And anyway, even if she had neglected herself, she had absolutely _no right_ to neglect her family… the children that relied on her. Vernon peered into the cupboard once more to check on his nephew. Huddled against the very back wall in grey sheets that looked as if they were in need of a bit of a wash was Harry. Unwavering green eyes watched his every move warily.

Vernon reached into the space and grabbed him much like he had done to Dudley, ignoring the way Harry flinched away from him. Harry had always been a flighty child since he had been left with them, his reaction was nothing new.

"Come on son." Vernon muttered as he hoisted Harry out of the cupboard. "Hungry are you? Let's go join your cousin." Petunia shifted as if she was going to say something. Vernon looked up at her, almost as if in defiance, and she stomped down onto the next step. A load creak came from inside the cupboard and Vernon noted with horror that sawdust and lint, _and was that a spider?,_ fell down onto the bed. So every time he or someone else came down the stairs that happened? How long had the boy had to live with this? It was certainly no condition for a child to have been sleeping in.

Vernon stood from his crouch with difficulty, his knees protesting over the added – albeit very little – weight of his nephew. Harry still in his arms, Vernon headed into the kitchen quickly. Lord knows that Dudley could get into trouble quicker than any other child his age and to leave him alone was just begging for it. Dudley was sitting at the table, had appropriated his child sized knife and fork and currently seemed to be content with play acting his meal. Vernon set the much less active child on the kitchen counter that Petunia was cleaning only a few minute ago. _A few minutes had seemed like forever when I thought him missing,_ Vernon speculated while rooting in the fridge.

It wasn't long before Vernon, Dudley and Harry were sitting around the table with generous helpings of Tuesday's leftovers. It was cold, but remained delicious and he wasn't sure that he could wait the half hour it would have taken to heat up in the oven, much less the kids. Harry was eating enthusiastically, about as animated as Vernon had ever seen him in his presence, tomato sauce climbing higher and higher up his pale face. _What is that?_ Vernon did a double take and was openly staring at the child's face. _A bruise?_ A long dark splodge marred the pale cheekbone, starkly standing out against his pale complexion.

"Harry," Vernon paused as he struggled to find the right question to ask, "Harry, did someone hit you today?"

Harry put his fork down on his plate and hung his head low enough for his chin to press firmly into his chest. Just what was going on around here?

It was his own son that piped up and Vernon reeled at the fact that something other than Dudley's own plate had caught his attention while at the table.

"Mum hit him 'cause she was angry that he did better 'an me at school." Dudley kept his voice low, almost conspiratorially as he confided in his father. His chubby little face held none of the mirth it usually did. Petunia had taken the joviality out of his little boy. Had that happened before or after she had locked him in the cupboard?

"Really now, is that true Harry?" If Vernon hadn't been looking at him carefully he would never have noticed the little nod of affirmation. He studied the bruise again, _to get it shaped so perfectly…_ "What did she hit you with Harry?"

"Pan handle."

Silence reigned for the rest of the meal, Harry didn't touch his plate again and Vernon picked at the remaining food at his. The only person who was blissfully thick-skinned enough to eat was little Dudley and even he didn't attack his share with the usual gusto. It was after the boys had been fed and watered and put to sleep in Dudley's room that Vernon decided to seek out his wife.

She had taken a seat in the old rocking chair in the corner of their bedroom. Many a nights had they nursed and comforted Dudley in that chair when he was a baby. Petunia had rocked and sang with a tender look on her face in those days. Back when everything was new. What had happened?

Vernon sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her and started taking off his shoes and socks.

"Why did you lock him in the cupboard, Petunia?"

"That ungrateful whelp completely showed us up today! You wouldn't _believe_ what happened-"

"I was talking about our son." There was a pregnant pause.

"That was an accident, I didn't know he was in there." At this Vernon turned around furiously.

"You didn't know he was in there? Are you telling me he didn't call out for you? You know _fully well_ that Dudley is afraid of the dark, there is _no way_ that he would have stayed there quietly." Vernon was practically foaming at the mouth as he hissed at his wife. Without warning he stormed out of the bedroom and into the bathroom to prepare for bed. Brushing his teeth none too gently, he glared at his reflection. Is this what ten years of marriage and growth was going to amount to? Is this what he would have to settle for? Vernon noted grimly that his toothpaste was pink with blood when he spat out and went to rinse his mouth out.

Petunia was still in that damned corner when Vernon returned. His pyjamas hung closely around his middle and his hard breathing accentuating the fact that perhaps it was time for new ones. Never had he felt so angry and betrayed!

"So, Miss 'Magical Children Thrive in Small and Dark Places' – perhaps I should have got a second opinion on that – is it the same for saucepan handles? Do saucepan handles just _knock_ the magic into them, hm? There is a little boy in the room next door, Petunia, with a disgusting bruise on his face! He has school tomorrow! How do you _propose_ that we explain this to the authorities? _Are you actually opening your mouth because you have thought of an excuse?_ I will not have this nonsense in my house! The way you _abuse_ that boy is going to get us into a lot of trouble with the wrong sort of people – can't you see that?"

Vernon paused and took a speculative look at his wife. She didn't seem exactly sorrowful about all of this. The words _unfit mother_ flittered through his head unashamedly and for the first time in their married years he wondered if he had made the right choice in trusting this woman with his family.

"Vernon, don't even begin to pretend like you didn't know what my intentions were. _You_ were the one who told me that things which remained unsaid revealed themselves in our actions – _you knew!_ After I read that damned letter I decided that if we had to take him in, I'd at least stamp out that dangerous nonsense!"

Petunia's fair hair curled around her face and obstructed Vernon's view of her eyes a little.

"But why… Why did you lie to me about putting him in the cupboard? Why have you been so cruel?" Vernon's mouth open and closed a couple more times before he shut it with a click and glared at his wife. Part of him didn't even know why he was in this room fishing for his wife's explanations. Nothing good was going to come of this, he could feel it.

"Well," she started, her voice perturbingly quiet. "They have to be kept separate from us. Mixing is not safe."

Vernon swallowed down his feelings of fear and distrust. What Petunia was saying didn't really make sense. It wasn't as if Harry having his own room would make him contagious – magic wasn't at all catching, surely. And he wasn't even fully grown or practiced in the art. Vernon swallowed again, this time wetting his throat that had become dry in his feeling of trepidation. If anything, they should be making the boy feeling as welcome and loved as possible so that when the time came, when he could do magic competently, they would be safeguarded by the boy's own affections. Explaining this to Petunia would be futile. She was too far gone in her fear.

"Petunia," Vernon began carefully. Should he? He looked around the room, at everything apart from her. He was suddenly feeling very trapped and the harsh lighting of their bedroom was making his head hurt. "I'm going to sleep in the guest room tonight."

With that, Vernon shuffled out without a glance behind him. He left his wife in that room alone, with her blond hair wild about her head, her pale face as washed out as her eyes. Nothing seemed clearer to Vernon just then, the mistake he had made in believing her. In not noticing the reality of his situation. Vernon Dursley did not return to that bedroom for many years to come.


End file.
